


make good

by shedrovemehere



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Golden Lovers, Happy Ending, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 16:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10925943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shedrovemehere/pseuds/shedrovemehere
Summary: Thanks for reading! I just want to say, mostly for my own sake, that this is based on the kayfabe characters of these two. I feel weird writing a fic about actual living humans, so nothing about this is really meant to speculate on whatever relationship there may be here. Thanks again and please leave some feedback if you have some!





	make good

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I just want to say, mostly for my own sake, that this is based on the kayfabe characters of these two. I feel weird writing a fic about actual living humans, so nothing about this is really meant to speculate on whatever relationship there may be here. Thanks again and please leave some feedback if you have some!

* * *

 

 _He has to know it’s me under this mask, right?_ Kota thought. Tiger Mask W’s fighting style and physique couldn’t have left a whole lot of doubt, especially not for Kenny, _of all people_. At least, that’s what Kota imagined. But as he strode through the crowd toward the ring, Kenny stared at him with an expression Kota couldn’t quite place— not angry, not confused, not amused. As always happened with Kenny these days, Kota's gut twisted as he wondered whether he’d made a mistake. He did his customary pounce into the ring, and Kenny shot him a look of _who do you think you are?_ His heart raced as Kenny handed him the mic with a tired, bored expression.

“Kenny”, he began in his best dashing anime hero voice, “Congratulations on finally taking that belt off Okada! What an excellent match!” The Dominion crowd clapped politely, as Tiger Mask W gestured magnanimously to the brand new IWGP Heavyweight Champion. Kenny nodded an obligatory, dismissive thanks. “Now,” Kota continued gravely, "I made a promise to you years ago”. Kenny looked at him, furrowing his brow in patronizing confusion. Kota hoped that reaction was for the fans, and not genuine. The crowd gasped as Kota raised his hand to the back of the mask and slowly (for dramatic effect) pulled the mask off, first revealing his trademark shaggy hair, and then his face, grinning triumphantly. The audience went crazy. _How did they not know it was me?_ Kota thought, locking eyes with Kenny, whose eyes had momentarily flashed with emotion (again, Kota was unsure which one), then gone back to steely. Kenny looked like the god he constantly told fans he was: the lights shining off his sweaty, chiseled torso, his hair roguishly disheveled, his perfect lips pursed in an expression of intrigue, eyes glittering with mischief. Kota’s eyes paused briefly on Kenny’s shoulders and collarbone. _Oof_.

“When we were friends,” Kota said, in his own voice now, wincing sadly at his unfortunate-but-true choice of words, “we made a bet that whoever won the big belt first, the other would be the first in line to challenge.” _Don’t you remember? We were giggling like kids, laying on the grass at night. But I was serious, and I know you were too._ The crowd loved that, but Kenny’s face was still unknowable, his eyes looking nowhere but Kota. “You couldn’t handle the thought of me winning it first, and you made sure I didn’t.” The crowd gasped and _oooooh_ -ed, while Kenny screwed up his face. "We may not be friends anymore, Kenny,” Kota said with more sadness than he’d intended. Kenny wet his lips and looked down. “But I see that as no reason to lose a bet.” The audience was on their feet, and Kenny’s eyes locked on Kota’s once more. “I’ve been watching you through this mask. And I want that belt.”

Kota didn’t break Kenny’s gaze, but took his Tiger Mask W mask and cape, and set them down in the middle of the ring along with the mic. The audience lit up, and began an “I-BU-SHI!” chant. For dramatic effect, Kota skipped backward and did Kenny’s “Good Bye and Good Night” gesture, kissing his finger-gun sweetly and pointing it at Kenny. The cheers got louder. He couldn’t keep a straight face anymore, _never with Kenny_ , and broke into a big goofy smile, but Kenny’s gaze only got stonier. Kota’s face fell then, and so did his stomach. He stared at Kenny for another moment, seeking desperately any inkling of what was going on in his mind. When Kenny’s scowl remained, Kota shrugged, turned, and started making his way back to the locker room. _Ugh, I’m so stupid. He thinks I’m beneath him now._

The crowd was deafening—now an even mix of “Kenn-ny-y!” and “I-bu-shi!” peppered the arena. Kota didn’t turn to look at the ring. He felt deflated and embarrassed, despite the crowd’s enthusiasm, and wanted to disappear from their sight as quickly as possible. He didn’t, though: he made sure his walk had the air of nonchalance and mischief that the crowd had always loved him for. He was just about to hit the curtain when Kenny’s voice thundered over the sound system.

“IBUSHI-SAN!” _Ouch._ The crowd cheered, but Kota’s expression twisted at how formally Kenny addressed him, _after everything_. Slowly, he turned to see Kenny with a sadistic, unkind smile, before being blinded by a spotlight. Kenny laughed mockingly. “I’ve never beaten you, Ibushi. That much is true. And oh yeah, I remember that bet. You were a little more of a star back then, though.” _Ouch, again. And why do you think I left?_ "But if you want this?” he pointed in the general direction of his waist, and Kota knew he fully intended the lewd double meaning of the gesture. He suppressed a smile. Kenny chuckled angrily again, and sneered, “come get it.” The crowd was now fully on Kenny’s side. Kota crossed his arms and looked to his sides as though offended.

“Oh, and, Ibushi-san?” Kenny asked in mock innocence, and Kota felt his cheeks flush with frustration; -san felt like insult rather than respect. “I’m the leader of Bullet Club now, so I guess that whole costing-you-the-belt thing worked out for _me_.” He chuckled to himself. “Nice mask, though.” Kenny kicked the mask, still on the canvas, with his toe, then stomped on it while cameras flashed. Kota had to admit that looked pretty cool, and he was _mostly_ sure Kenny was hamming it up for the crowd. "Good bye,” Kenny hissed, more cuttingly than Kota had ever heard him say it. Kenny then made a special show of tenderly kissing his finger-gun, for much longer than usual. “And good night!” he pointed at Kota for the “gunshot.” The crowd again roared, and Kenny’s music boomed over the sound system. Kenny’s eyes remained focused on Kota, and just before Kota turned to leave, he caught sight of Kenny’s face on the huge screen above the ring. Now there was no sneer and no heartless grin. The Cleaner was gone, and Kenny just stared at Kota with an expression of earnest intensity, the way he’d looked at him when Kota had had to talk about him on that top-wrestlers TV show. _Like no one else is here but us_. Kota turned and exited, and Kenny seemed to snap out of it and return to posing for the crowd with his newly-won belt.

Backstage, people were mostly focused on other things: trying to cheer Okada, playing video games, showering, going home. A few of his old friends clapped him on the back to congratulate him for challenging Kenny, but Kota headed for the locker room as quickly as he could. He didn’t really want to see anyone after feeling so _stupid_ for his interaction with Kenny; he spent his very long shower replaying every moment of it in his mind and cringing. Kota never had trouble finding men to pass the time with: even with his genuine humility, by this point in life he couldn’t really deny what his doe eyes, shy smile, and nearly perfect body were capable of netting him. But no one ever shook him the way Kenny could with only a little curl of his lip or a gesture. Not even close. Not even the curly-haired gaijins, whom he desperately hid his fondness for out of fear of being _way_ too obvious. Any interaction with Kenny normally left him feeling sad and detached for days, and he didn’t _normally_ challenge Kenny for the most important wrestling title in the world. _I’d have thought I’d learn to be less impulsive by now. What was I thinking?_

After Kota had showered and changed, he slowly headed for the back door. He shoved his earbuds in, turned up the hip-hop, and ducked past interacting with a few other wrestlers. Feet on autopilot, he began his walk home, cursing his impulsiveness the whole way. He was so antsy and lost in thought that when he got back to his apartment, he couldn’t really bring himself to go in, knowing that on the other side of the door was really just the monotony of his thoughts, his attention-starved cat, and some snacks he probably shouldn’t just absent-mindedly eat. Near his apartment was a small community park he often wandered to when he couldn’t sleep. He decided tonight’s warm weather was perfect for watching the fountains—the sounds of the swishing water would be more soothing than whatever TV show he’d have tried and failed to distract himself with. Kota headed to a darker edge of the park, more isolated, and sat on the grass under a tree. Tonight was gorgeous—the fountains splashed and summer flowers were in bloom everywhere. Lovers and groups of teenagers came to the park this time of night, too, to have some privacy or harmless fun. Kota watched people on the other side of the park, walking dogs, late-night jogging, or doing the same thing he was: just being outside on a perfect summer night. He felt comforted by the stillness, and the knowledge that everyone in the park was reveling in the same peaceful warmth he was.

“You know, you’re really predictable sometimes.” _Oh, no_... Kota’s stomach knotted as he turned to see Kenny standing behind him, his curls backlit by a street lamp. Kota just stared at him, not really understanding why Kenny had appeared, how he felt, or what he wanted. Kenny moved out of the halo of the streetlamp and Kota could finally make out the expression on his face, which he was surprised to see was _elation_. Kenny laughed. “I _did_ it, Kota! It really happened! I still can’t believe it’s real. And then you…” he beamed. “I mean, I don’t want to look too far into it, and of course I know things change, and… I mean… but…” Kota was completely lost, and Kenny seemed to be searching his face for matching enthusiasm. When Kota could only manage a puzzled and somewhat hurt smile, Kenny stopped that line of thought, looking a little sheepish. "I don’t know, I don’t know what I’m saying! I can’t stop smiling like a lunatic. Kota! _We did it_!” He reached down and pulled Kota’s forearm up, squeezing him into a bear hug with his arms pinned at his sides.

 _We? I did nothing but waste my potential so I didn’t have to think about_ you. It occurred to Kota that he hadn’t really congratulated Kenny (even though Tiger Mask W had), and that he’d been so lost in his own melancholy that he’d forgotten that the person he loved most in the world had just achieved his biggest dream. And Kota _did_ still love him. He’d recently resolved to stop lying to himself about it, and decided the only real way to get over it was to just let himself feel pathetic and stupid until he didn’t anymore. Challenging Kenny for the belt had decidedly been a step in the wrong direction, though. _I. am. the. stupidest. person._ He shuddered, and pushed out of the hug.

“Congratulations, Kenny. I never doubted you’d do it. I’m really really happy for you.” He truly meant it all, but he couldn’t muster enough enthusiasm to even halfway match Kenny’s joy, which just made him feel worse. He wanted to leave quickly, so he didn’t dampen Kenny’s moment with his anger and sadness—or worse, blow up at him. “You were awesome,” he managed, flashing his most convincing smile. He patted Kenny on the arm. “Good to see you, but I’d better get home and feed Hoshi,” he said briskly, and turned away. 

Kenny caught his arm. “No, Kota, please don’t leave. You can tell Hoshi it’s my fault.” The sudden desperation and uncertainty in Kenny’s voice made Kota turn around reluctantly. “Look. I… I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t mean anything but I am. I have been. I don’t know how to—”

“You should be celebrating tonight, not feeling bad.” Kota cut him off. “Besides, I—"

“No, please let me finish. There’s so much I’ve wanted to say to you.”

Kota paused, and sighed. “Okay,” he said woodenly, and sat back down on the grass. Kenny sat next to him, though Kota tensed up when Kenny tried to sit closer, so Kenny remained several inches away.

Kenny was quiet for a long moment. “I thought you challenging me for the belt meant you _wanted_ to win the bet,” he sighed, sounding like a hurt child who was trying to seem brave.

“I guess? Mostly I just didn’t want to _lose_ it.” Kota thought a moment, and realized he couldn’t even remember what they’d wagered. “You sounded pretty unimpressed to me, actually."

“What’d you want me to do Kota? Hug you? You know we have to make it interesting. Fans have been waiting for this.”

Kota hadn’t really thought about it that way, he’d been focused on feeling stupid and hurt. Kenny was so good at telling stories with wrestling and building the fans’ admiration for him. Kota was as impulsive as Kenny was methodical, and typically let his gleeful recklessness guide him. They’d been a great team, once, outside of the ring just as much as inside. _Although only one of us has won that belt_. “It was stupid, Kenny. I came crawling back after you dropped me in front of the whole world.” Kota remembered later seeing the video of himself writhing on the mat in agony, hands covering his face; sobbing past the point of breathing; everyone (but Kenny) had assumed he was just exhausted. _How humiliating_.

Kenny shook his head. “There’s no excuse for what I did to you. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. I was jealous, I was angry, I thought you were taking up too much of my brain. I thought about you all the time. I was terrified of what people… well I never was back in Canada… but here I… we could get blacklisted… if people knew."

“Kenny, we were called _The Golden Lovers_. People knew.”

“They thought it was a joke, Kota. Or at least there was enough doubt that we could hide in plain sight. But the point is, even if people didn’t care, I felt I needed to be—" he waved his hands mockingly “— _married to my work_. I thought I had to make a choice between…” Kenny looked up at the night sky like it would nudge him into saying what he needed to. “… between achieving my dream, and…” he paused. “Between achieving my dream and loving you,” he said softly.

“Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” Kota spat without thinking. “I lost my mind and my career because I couldn’t choose, because I _wouldn’t_!” His throat tightened, and his stomach flipped. “I didn’t think I should have to,” he said softly. "So I ended up with neither.” He took several deep breaths as Kenny stared at him helplessly. “At least _you_ got what you wanted,” Kota said finally, miserably, though on some level he meant it sincerely. At least one of them had made it to the top.

“No, Kota, you were right—you’re _always_ goddamn right.” Kenny scoffed at himself. "You thought we didn’t have to choose, we could just be _honest—_ " again waving his hands mockingly—"to face it all _as a team_. That sounded so naive to me. At the time. But now...” Kenny faced straight ahead. He sighed. “You know why I came here, don’t you?”

It occurred to Kota that he actually had _no idea_ how Kenny had known where he was. And _he_ didn’t even have a great idea of why he came here instead of going to bed. He hadn’t even really planned to be here. He shook his head.

“Oh. That’s awkward.”

Kota had no idea what that meant.

“This is where we were, Kota. Right over there, remember?” Kenny pointed to a flatter area of the park where children played soccer during the day.

 _When we made the bet_. Kota did remember. _We were going to shake on it, but you kissed me instead_. Though Kota never made that much secret about touching Kenny affectionately, even in the ring, Kenny was so careful never to look like more-than-friends in public. That night, though, he’d laughed as he climbed on top of Kota in the grass, pinning him down, showering his cheeks and neck with kisses, then biting his lower lip as he kissed him slowly and deeply. For once, without a second thought about who might see them. _I felt unsinkable that night_. “Yeah,” Kota sighed, trying to remain guarded and aloof. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”

Kenny was still staring straight ahead. “When I saw you coming out to challenge me, I froze. I did my best Kenny The Cleaner because otherwise I would have just stared at you, which doesn’t make for the greatest wrestling story. But I was mostly _pissed_ at myself. There I was, celebrating _My Great Achievement_ , and then you and your stupid perfect torso—"  _Well, at least Kenny knew it was me in the mask_. “—showed up to remind me how fucking boneheaded I was being.”

“I don’t understand. You’d just put on the best match of your life. With _Okada_. You’d just won the belt—the thing you wanted most for years. Your dream just came true, Kenny.” Kota was half bitter, half puzzled.

“Kota,” Kenny looked up at the sky again, and paused. “I was wrong. Winning that belt was huge, but it didn’t feel like a dream coming true, like it used to, like i thought it would. More like a proud professional success,” Kenny made a little motion of checking an item off a list. “Seeing you made me realize that." He looked down at his hands folded on his lap. “I saw you, and I… Kota…” Kenny seemed to be searching for the most accurate words. He pushed his hands away from him and exhaled. “…There's no dream for me that doesn’t involve you.” He turned his head to meet Kota’s stunned gaze, then looked away again. "That’s why I came here. I wanted to remember what I felt like back when I had the good sense to know that."

Kota wanted to punch him and also kiss him. He’d felt so hurt for so long that he hadn’t really considered the possibility of Kenny _actually_ learning from his mistakes, let alone admitting to them, _let alone_ wanting to be with him again. He set his jaw and looked straight ahead, not wanting to complicate his already-overwhlemed emotions with whatever was happening on Kenny’s face.

“And then I saw you sitting here and I thought you must be ready to talk to me, _finally_ ,” Kenny said bitterly. “But no, of course. And I don’t really blame you, I just… tonight when we were in the ring together, I felt that… _magic_ … again, once I knew we were continuing our story. You know? It all seemed so perfect.”

Kota felt a shiver in his chest when Kenny said “magic.” That was exactly it. That was exactly what he’d been searching for so restlessly. That feeling that wrestling was fun and exciting, like it wasn’t work at all. Having the energy to keep going and keep improving, just to be better at the sport he loved. He’d felt little tastes of it here and there but _never_ in the way he used to _every damn day_ with Kenny. Kota laughed softly to himself. “And that’s why you thought it was _so meaningful_ that I’d wanted to win that bet,” he said, more mockingly than he’d actually meant it.

“Well, yeah, I mean…” Kenny looked sheepish. “I didn’t think you still would,” he said, almost a whisper.

“I have to say that I don’t remember what we wagered on it. Do I owe you money or something?”

Kenny’s eyes opened wide. He stammered. “Oh. Um, no, no money. It was silly; never mind.”

“Ugh, tell me!” He was so bad at pretending not to care, especially when Kenny was involved.

Kenny hesitated. “Standard punishment: If one of us chickened out on challenging, the champ got to choose their ring gear for their next match.” It was actually a bet they’d made before, and it was how Kenny had ended up with a hideous pair of pants made from fabric Kota had taken from a photo shoot. To troll Kota, he decided to wear them for all his tag matches, as if they weren’t a horrible eyesore. He’d kept it up for years, long after he and Kota stopped speaking. _He's so stubborn._  

“Okay, but that didn’t happen…” Kota prodded, chuckling a little at the thought of those awful pants.

“Um, well.” Kenny sighed with resignation. “If one of us actually did challenge the other, we agreed that the champ would have to… uh… spend an evening doing _everything_ the challenger wanted.”

“Oh,” was all Kota could say to that.  _That_ is _awkward. I am so, so stupid._

“Yeah,” Kenny said, sucking in air through his teeth.

“Well,” Kota said helpfully, “we never shook on it, so there’s probably room for some flexibility.”

Kenny laughed as though he was surprised. “I remember. I didn’t realize I was invalidating the bet by kissing you.”

“It’s in the rules, I’m afraid.”

Kenny laughed again. They were both silent for several minutes, as they watched a girl try to push her boyfriend into a fountain.

“Thank you… for talking to me,” Kenny said, finally.

 _When in history have I ever been able to say no to you_? “Oh, I mean… it’s good... that we talked.” Kota started to feel like he was sliding into something terrifying and irreversible. But he also felt fog lifting from his brain. He couldn’t deny that it felt so _easy_ to be around Kenny, when they could actually have a conversation instead of being angry at each other.

Kenny continued, "And… I'm sorry, Kota. I don’t know how to tell you… I guess I should just be grateful I can count on you to be impulsive enough to make good on that bet, even if you don’t remember what you won.” Kenny smiled sadly. “Thank you… _I guess_... for reminding me what a dream coming true should _actually_ feel like.”

“Oh, Kenny. You forgot that _everyone_ has less fun without me,” Kota said very seriously.

“You joke, Kota, but I should have known. You’ve been my dream literally since the first moment I knew you existed.” Kenny stared straight into Kota’s eyes, almost challenging him. He looked scared, like he said more than he'd meant to, but he held Kota's gaze.

Kota opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of anything to say. He’d been so afraid of engaging with the weight of their history, the meaning behind the years of circling each other, knowing _no one else_ measured up personally or professionally. Now suddenly it was all right there in the open, and it didn’t feel nearly as bad as he’d feared, but it it was _immense_. He wanted to throw on the brakes, stop this tumbling downhill feeling that engulfed him. He wanted to blink and have been imagining all of this. But more than that, he just wanted to be done hurting. _I guess we have to start somewhere._ He sighed, then got to his knees and threw his arms around Kenny’s neck, nearly knocking him over. Kota squeezed him. “If you ever forget again—"

“I won’t. I’ll even shake on it,” Kenny said, extending his hand and looking into Kota’s eyes earnestly and innocently.

 _Oh will you, now?_ Kota raised an eyebrow, and Kenny’s mouth formed a mischievous smirk. He lowered his shoulder and checked Kota backward onto the ground, climbing onto him and straddling him. Kota pretended to attempt to kick out as Kenny held Kota's arms down with his, interlocking their fingers. He kissed Kota gently on the collarbone, then the neck, then the jaw, then the cheek. Kota wrested one of his hands free, and pulled Kenny’s head down to his, finding his lips familiar and firm and ready. He let go of Kenny’s head, but Kenny just kissed him harder, and ground his hips into Kota’s. Kenny sat up, hips still rocking slightly, making sure to maintain as much contact as possible. He hooked his thumbs onto Kota’s belt loops, under his shirt, and rubbed Kota’s hips.

Kota closed his eyes and smiled dreamily. “Aren’t you worried someone will see us?” he asked quite seriously. Even though it had never bothered him, he was sensitive to Kenny’s anxieties about it.

Kenny looked around sheepishly, as though he’d forgotten to think about that. “No, not really, I guess,” Kenny shrugged. He locked eyes with Kota, still straddling him. “Though I do think maybe it’d be best if we go back to your place… you know? I mean, since we’re so nearby and all. I mean… _if that’s what you want_.” He smirked again.

 _Kenny, you ass_. Kota bit his lower lip. “Yeah, I’m sorta… hungry... and my bed sounds like a great place to be,” he said, doing his best to sound serious and nonchalant, though he wasn't confident he’d pulled it off. Kota had meant the double entendre, but Kenny never got his dirty jokes; he always assumed Kota was too innocent for such things. _He really should know better_.

“Mm.” Kenny nodded in faux solemnity. “And you said Hoshi needs food. Plus she probably misses me terribly, so I _have_ to go with you."

Kota laughed then—he hated it, but his cat always purred her loudest for Kenny. “Just give me a second to, uh, compose myself.” He adjusted his waistband.

Kenny pulled him up and kissed him again. Then he reached for Kota’s hand, and shook it ceremoniously, which made Kota laugh.

“Okay, Kenny, it’s official now,” Kota nodded sternly.

Kenny studied Kota’s face, running his fingers through Kota’s hair. “I guess I’ll have to try to be sweeter to you in public,” he said, kissing him one more time softly on the cheek.

“You don’t have to," Kota shrugged. "I know it bugs you.” Kota laughed again, for the first time in a long time with no restraint. "Also… Kenny, next time they see us together, we’re going to be _kicking each other in the head_.”

“But _sweetly_ ,” Kenny chuckled. “And when I win that match,” he said with a fierce glare, grasping Kota’s hand again, "I’m gonna kiss you in front of the whole damn world."


End file.
